


A Heart I Couldn't Silence

by Avery_Kedavra



Series: Soulmate September [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxiety, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Good Friend, Crying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, Morality | Patton Sanders Needs a Hug, Morality | Patton Sanders-centric, Queerplatonic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26373784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery_Kedavra/pseuds/Avery_Kedavra
Summary: Patton doesn't know how he feels about his soulmate. On one hand, he likes feeling the little zap of their emotions. On the other hand, he doesn't think they likehim. Why would they? They're probably annoyed with all the times Patton cries.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Soulmate September [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907623
Comments: 14
Kudos: 183





	A Heart I Couldn't Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is late. Very, very late. But I’m doing my best to catch up with these prompts, so here’s a quicker one out of order for day five! It’s cliche to use Virgil for this prompt, but it’s a good cliche, and you can fight me. I’m in it for the cliched fluffy nonsense, okay? Okay. Glad we had this talk.
> 
> (Find me on Tumblr at @averykedavra! Title is from Feel Good by Gryffin and Illenium.)

Patton feels bad for his soulmate.

He’s never met the guy, gal, or non-binary pal, of course. But he knows he has one. He _knows_ implicitly, he _feels_ it, and also the random bursts of anxiety kind of point in that direction, too. His soulmate is anxious. His soulmate doesn’t sleep well because sometimes Patton wakes up to a racing heart and sweaty palms. His soulmate always feels relief at the end of the day, and Patton looks forward to that little bubble of happiness. Good for his soulmate, he always thinks. They’ve made it. Patton’s proud of them.

So yeah. He knows he _has_ a soulmate. And he can always tell which emotions aren’t his own, because they come with little tingly edges. Like lightning zapping his fingers. Sometimes it’s scary or just annoying. Sometimes, when his soulmate is happy—which isn’t as often as Patton would like—it’s intoxicating, a rush of joy that makes Patton want to squeal.

Patton likes having a soulmate.

He’s pretty sure his soulmate doesn’t feel the same way, though.

See, Patton cries a lot.

Patton cries when a movie makes him happy. Patton cries when a movie makes him sad. Patton cries when he sees a really cute puppy. Patton cries when he fails a test. Patton cries when someone else is crying. Patton cries over _everything_ —he has, literally, cried over spilled milk. It looked really sad sitting on the floor like that, and Patton also knew he had to clean it up, and it was a waste of milk, and before he knew it he was sniffling.

Patton cries over everything. Patton also, sometimes, cries over nothing at all. He just sits on the couch and his eyes prickle and he starts bawling, curling up and pressing his hands to his mouth and crying over _nothing_ like a _baby_.

He just cries sometimes. He just gets upset sometimes and he’s learned to deal with that. Kind of. Maybe.

Not really, if he’s being honest.

But it’s fine! He’s happy the rest of the time, so it doesn’t really matter that sometimes he starts sobbing randomly at two in the morning. Maybe it’s repression. Maybe it’s being a teenager. Maybe it’s just the way Patton works. And honestly, he’s mostly okay with it. He’d much rather feel terrible for little moments of time than feel vaguely bad almost _all_ the time. Not like he gets a choice—he can’t control how he feels.

Patton’s fine.

He’s worried his soulmate isn’t, though.

His soulmate, who can feel all his strongest emotions, good and bad.

God, his soulmate must think he’s a mess.

He’s not a mess. Mostly. Is he?

He’s tried very hard not to be. Or at least, to make it look like he’s _not_. Patton doesn’t like to lie, but this isn’t lying, it’s just…obscuring the truth? Ugh, wow, that sounds really bad.

It’s keeping private stuff private. It’s staying perky for his friends, because they need an anchor, someone to rely on. Patton is the happy one. The helpful one. And if he’s not helpful--if he doesn’t earn his keep--they won’t keep him around.

He hates that he thinks this. His friends are such wonderful people--he _knows_ that, they’re amazing, they’re so kind and intelligent and fantastic--but he’s still scared, because he can’t possibly measure up, he can’t be as good as they are and the moment he slips up they’ll all see it. Everything will crumble and it’ll be all his fault.

They’ll see that he tries. They’ll see that he’s failed. And he won’t blame them for leaving him behind.

Maybe it’s not true. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s just another thing that his brain thinks up to make him cry but maybe it’s _not_. And can Patton take the risk?

Sometimes, he thinks he can.

Most of the time? No.

No, he’s just going to stay quiet, grin and bear it, keep everything from crumbling. His friends struggle. They fumble. They stumble through high school and they’re doing so great and it’ll just make them feel bad if Patton tells them. They don’t deserve another person to worry about.

Not that anything’s worrying, of course.

Patton’s fine.

He’s fine, he has everything handled, and even if he cries too much, he’s gotten good at holding it in until he’s alone.

He’s fine. He has so many good friends. His grades are good. Everything’s perfect and he’s not perfect but he’s good at pretending to be.

And he cries sometimes, but who doesn’t?

The only person who might be able to tell is his soulmate.

But Patton hasn’t met them yet, so it’s fine.

Everything’s completely fine.

\---

“Everything is shit,” Virgil complains, collapsing into his chair and tossing his stuff on the desk with a thunk.

“Hey, honey, no!” Patton frowns. “What happened?”

“I just said. Everything.”

“Well, be more specific, then.”

Virgil rolls his eyes, and Patton can see a smirk already growing. Good, Virgil is relaxing. 

“I’m pretty sure I bombed my test for earth systems,” Virgil grumbles. “I hate that whole class. Like, I don’t _need_ to know earth systems. The earth is round and green and full of terrifying creatures. Why does it matter how it got born?”

Patton smiles and pats Virgil’s head. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“You didn’t see the questions.” Virgil slumps over and drapes himself across Patton’s shoulder. It’s an awkward position. Patton’s a foot or so away, sitting at his own desk. But Patton just shifts and lets Virgil curl up next to him like a hoodied ball. Virgil’s head lolls on Patton’s shoulder. Patton stares for maybe a little longer than he should at the bridge of Virgil’s nose, the dye at the edges of his hair, the little ring in his lip. “I’m doomed.”

“Come on, be optimistic.” Patton knows Virgil takes to optimism like a dragon takes to embroidery, but practice makes progress! “You can’t know until you get the results back.”

“Yeah, I can,” Virgil mumbles. “I _feel_ it. In my soul.”

“Is your soul lying to you?”

“How dare you. My soul is pure and untarnished.”

“Oh, really?” Patton shakes his head. “Might need to have some proof of that, mister.”

“You’re insulting my soul.” Virgil sits upright, thumping his chest. "Look at it. It’s wonderful.”

“I can’t see it,” Patton says.

“Look closer.” Virgil leans over intently. “It’s black, you know. But that doesn’t mean it’s a liar.”

Patton giggles. “So your soul is evil and black and emo but doesn’t lie?”

“My soul has standards.”

“I’m sure it does.” Patton smiles at Virgil. “But I don’t think it’s your soul that’s saying you failed the test.”

“My heart, then.” Virgil thumps his heart. “My old, blackened heart, shriveled yet still speaking the truth--and the truth is that I fucked up, Pat.”

“You did not!” Patton folds his arms. “You know what I think? I think it isn’t your heart _or_ soul that’s telling you that.”

“Then what?” Virgil asks. He’s smiling. Good job, Patton, you did it!

“I think it’s a meanie little bit of brain.” Patton pokes at Virgil’s head. Virgil swats his hand away halfheartedly. “And it’s _wrong_. You did great, because you’re _you_ \--and even if you didn’t, we can’t do anything about it now.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Virgil shifts. “Um, thanks, Pat.”

“No problem!” Patton grins. “What are best friends for?”

“They’re for being quiet,” Janus calls from a few desks behind them. “Class is starting, guys.”

Virgil squeaks and flushes. Patton feels a pit of anxiety in his own stomach, which is odd, until he realizes it’s his soulmate. They must be nervous about something. He hopes they’re okay--and sure enough, as the lesson starts, the anxiety fades from his heart.

His _soul_.

Patton peeks at Virgil, who is drumming a pencil on his desk. Virgil catches his eye and smiles just a bit. Patton smiles back.

He wonders who Virgil’s soulmate is. Virgil doesn’t talk about his much, unlike Janus and Roman. He’s mentioned once or twice that his soulmate is really emotional.

People have trouble, sometimes, telling who their soulmate is. Because emotions are weird and complicated and sometimes people can fake them or they just come off different. So some people go through life never being sure of their soulmate, knowing maybe this person _happens_ to have some similar feelings but it could be a coincidence, who knows.

Other people? They say they knew instantly. They _felt_ it, the moment they met.

Patton hasn’t _felt_ it with anyone. Which is good. Because he doesn’t really want to meet his soulmate all that much.

He hopes Virgil finds his.

He deserves it.

Patton sighs a bit, turns away, and feels a little thrum of happiness in his stomach. His soulmate is happy, relieved about something. Comfortable.

Patton wishes he was the same way.

But good for them.

\---

Patton’s headed to math when Virgil accosts him in the hallway. Well, accosts is a strong word. But also kind of accurate. Virgil grabs his arm and pulls him into an empty classroom with no more than a hello.

Patton’s already had a bit of a rough day. He ran out of cereal this morning and cried about it, and his soulmate is really anxious right now which is making all his nerves crawl and screech and flail about. So he hates to admit it, but he really hopes this will be quick.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says slowly. “What’s up?”

Virgil barely responds. He’s hopped up onto a desk and now he’s tucking his legs to his chest. His knuckles are white on his hoodie.

Okay. Yeah. This...seems like a bad sign.

Patton swallows down the torrent of emotions in his gut and walks closer.

“Virgil,” he says softly, “hey.”

Virgil bites his lip, grabs at his binder, and shoves a paper into Patton’s hands. Patton reads it.

It’s Virgil’s earth systems test from last week.

The number circled in red is a very low number. And the letter next to it is a large spiky _F._

“Oh, sweetie,” Patton says, looking up.

“I fucking knew it.” Virgil’s voice is tight. He’s not looking at Patton. He’s looking at the ground like he wants to stab it. “I fucking knew I’d screw it up, I didn’t study, I don’t know _shit_ and now I’m going to _fail_ \--”

“Hey. Hey. Easy.” Patton reaches over to Virgil and stops himself. “Can I touch you?”

Virgil shakes his head.

“Okay. That’s okay. Thanks for telling me, honey.”

Virgil’s curling even tighter into himself. And the anxiety in Patton’s stomach is ratcheting up a level or seven, tightening like a winch.

Of _course_ his soulmate is anxious the moment Patton needs to comfort his best friend. Of _course_.

Patton pushes it down like he always does. He sits cross-legged beneath Virgil, who is practically a ball of hoodie at this point, and gives him an encouraging smile. He can’t tell if Virgil sees it. Virgil’s face is hidden in his arms. He’s shaking.

Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

Patton can do this.

No matter that his insides feel like he’s being squeezed and pressed into a pulp. This is fine. He can pull it together and help his best friend.

“Breathe,” he says, trying to keep his own voice steady. “In and out, Virgil, okay?”

Virgil takes a breath so huge and raspy Patton can almost feel it. His stomach flips once, twice, three times.

He starts tapping a four-seven-eight rhythm on the ground. For both of them. Because his soulmate is panicking and Virgil is panicking and Patton is going to panic too if he's not careful.

He pushes it down.

He always, always pushes it down. Because Virgil comes first.

“Breathe,” he tells Virgil. “In and out.”

Virgil breathes.

Virgil is so, so good like that.

“Keep breathing, you’re doing great.” Patton pauses. “Want me to talk? You don’t have to listen, just keep breathing. Okay?”

Virgil gives him a short nod.

“So,” Patton starts, “I saw the cutest puppy the other day! And since it wasn’t a cat, I could pet it! I got to pet it, and it jumped up and licked my face--really energetic--I love dogs, you know that, and it was just really nice and I felt all happy inside and I want a dog--”

He’s rambling.

He’s rambling and he hopes Virgil doesn’t notice or care, because words are hard to string together when his hear is still hammering. He wishes he could calm his soulmate down, too.

He’s rambling and he hopes against hope that Virgil’s feeling better.

“--and I really think a movie night would be fun, if Roman doesn’t hog all the popcorn again, we could finally watch Brave because I missed it when it came out and I’ve been wanting to see it--”

Virgil’s still breathing. He’s uncurling, bit by bit. Patton catches a flash of dark eyes and almost beams.

“--movie nights are just the best! We should plan one, maybe!” Patton glances at Virgil. “I’d certainly love it--it’d be a _reel_ treat to _film_ my days with your company!”

And Virgil snorts, just a bit.

Patton smiles to himself. There he is.

“You’re breathing?” he asks Virgil.

“Yeah,” Virgil manages.

“Is touching okay?”

“Yeah.”

Patton gets up slowly and scooches next to Virgil. They barely fit on the desk but he balances on the edge and manages to stay on top. He places a hand on Virgil’s, and Virgil leans into him, sighing a bit.

He’s less anxious. And, weirdly, so is Patton--his soulmate has calmed down a bit, too. Patton smiles. He threads an arm around Virgil and sits there, feeling Virgil’s chest expand against his own. He imagines he can feel Virgil’s soul, flickering and dark but never lying, pressed up next to him.

His soulmate is calm. Virgil is calm. And Patton’s calm too.

Everything’s calm.

Of course, that’s when the alarm rings. Virgil shrieks and flails about, and Patton’s own chest sparks with panic, because apparently his soulmate has just been startled, but they’re calming down and Virgil’s calming down and it’s okay now--

Wait.

_Wait_.

Virgil is calming down. Patton’s soulmate is calming down. Both had been really anxious recently and now both are okay but both got startled suddenly and both--

_Both_ \--

Patton’s staring. He’s staring at Virgil, his best friend, who he’s known for a year and a half ever since Virgil switched to their school. He knows Virgil’s favorite color--purple. He knows Virgil’s favorite band--Evanescence. He knows Virgil’s favorite food--potato chips. He knows Virgil’s schedule, he knows Virgil’s middle name, he knows Virgil’s house almost as well as he knows his own.

He _knows_ Virgil, but suddenly, he feels like maybe he hasn’t known Virgil at all.

“Hey,” Patton says. He hopes his blind panic doesn’t leak into his voice. “Did I tell you? I got an A on my art assignment!”

“Really?” Virgil grins at him. “That’s great, Pat.”

And a flash of pride flickers through Patton’s chest, lightning in his heart.

“We should hurry up,” he tries, “we’re bound to be late.”

Virgil groans. “Oh, shit, you’re right.”

Panic. Annoyance. The pride fades and is replaced by...guilt?

“Sorry,” Virgil says only a second later. “I made you late, I--that wasn’t cool.”

“What? No, it’s fine!” Patton reaches out and squeezes Virgil’s hand. “I don’t mind, okay, honey? Talk to me anytime you need.”

“Thanks,” Virgil says, the gratitude clear in his voice. “You’re the best, Pat.”

Thankfulness, care, _love_ , a soup in Patton’s stomach, making him feel dizzy.

Patton’s discomfort must show on his face, because Virgil frowns. “You okay?”

“Of course,” Patton forces out, shoving down the maelstrom of emotions in his mind. “I--my soulmate’s really going through the feelings right now, is all.”

“Oh," Virgil says, nodding. “Got it.”

“What’s your soulmate like?” Patton asks hesitantly as they walk toward the hallway together.

“Hard to tell.” Virgil pauses at the doorway and gives Patton a little salute. “They’re sad a lot, though.”

“Oh,” Patton manages, and then he starts walking down the hallway without even saying goodbye.

\---

This isn’t a big deal.

Virgil is Patton’s best friend. Virgil, unless he’s lying to Patton--and why would he?--doesn’t know Patton’s his soulmate. Patton might have a bit of a squish on Virgil, and this is confirmation that they’re meant to be together. He could tell Virgil and they could be happy. Or he could not tell Virgil, and they could still be happy.

Either way, it’s not a big deal.

So why is Patton standing in the lobby and trying not to cry?

He’d managed to get through ten minutes of math. Then he grabbed a bathroom pass and wandered through the hallways until he ended up here. He’s next to the display case and the theater where Roman always practices--he reads a few plaques on the cups and trophies but he doesn’t recognize any of the names. Every time he moves, his shoes ring out against the endless stone floor.

He’s missing math class. He should care more about that, and he _will_ , when he’s struggling to catch up later. Right now, though, all he can think of is Virgil.

Virgil, who he jokes with in every class they have together. Virgil, who sits with him at lunch and trades his chips for one of Patton’s cookies. Virgil, who’s quiet and snarky and talks bad about himself too much and is just so wonderful and sweet and amazing and--Patton’s soulmate.

Patton’s met his soulmate, and he hadn’t even realized.

Because it doesn’t _matter_. He doesn’t _care_ that Virgil’s his soulmate. It doesn’t change _anything_.

Ugh.

Patton leans forward and presses his head against the cool glass of the trophy case.

It should make him feel better that his soulmate isn’t a stranger, that they’re compatible, that they’re friends. He’s always felt terrible for his soulmate. It should make him feel better that his soulmate seems to like him despite everything.

Except it doesn’t. Except Patton feels like he wants to sink into the glass case and disappear.

Footsteps behind him. Patton jerks upright and sees someone walking down the hallway towards him. He glances around for an escape. The door to the theater is cracked open.

Patton slips inside.

It’s a big theater, just got renovated last year. The lights are all off. The chairs are clustered together in the darkness and Patton does his best to avoid them, walking down one of the aisles and heading to the stage.

He’s been here a million times. Roman is a theater kid, and so is Janus, and Virgil--

Virgil helps with props.

Virgil helps with props, and he’s annoyed at Roman for always messing with the organization, and one time he spilled paint on the stage and he still feels guilty about it. Virgil loves raising the curtains. Virgil freaked out when the orchestra pit first opened because he was afraid he would fall. Virgil wrote his name in the corner of one of the seats during a three-hour-long assembly. Virgil helped fold up the programs.

Patton knows everything about Virgil.

How much does Virgil know about him?

How much _is_ there for Virgil to know?

Patton isn’t a _person_. He’s a collection of smiles and words he’s crafted to make other people feel better. He’s a facade. And what’s under there? Who _is_ he, underneath all the stuff he does for other people?

He doesn’t know. Not really.

How can he be someone’s soulmate if he can’t feel his own soul?

Patton touches a hand to his chest and imagines it. He pictures a butterfly with wings of light, fluttering around his heart, caged but tied to Virgil’s soul with a shimmering thread. Two halves of a whole, although that’s a kinda outdated phrase. It’s not about making your soulmate complete, it’s about being there for them and helping them be _better_.

Patton wants to feel better. But he doesn’t know how.

And what _is_ ‘better’ anyway? What is _happy?_ He knows how to _act_ happy, and he thinks he _is_ happy sometimes, but does he _know?_ If he’s happy, why does he cry so much?

Why is he crying?

Patton swipes at his face. Tears smear on his favorite blue shirt. He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

All the lights are off in the theatre. Patton climbs onto the stage and sits on the edge. His legs dangle off, and even though his feet are only a few inches from the ground, he feels like he’s floating.

The wood is smooth under his hands and hard enough to almost hurt. Patton looks up at the ceiling and counts the stage lights, all turned off, aimed different directions and bubbled like melted glass. The curtain sits behind him, dusty and crimson and worn in places.

The seats fan out around him, like an audience.

Patton curls his hands around the edge of the stage and takes another deep breath.

Virgil always sits right there. They went to one of Roman’s performances together, the night Virgil had off, and Virgil bought Patton some snacks so they shared them as they whispered to each other and laughed at the not-very-funny jokes. Virgil left his hand on the arm of his chair and Patton grabbed it under the guise of being afraid of the sudden blasts of music. Virgil didn’t seem to mind. And it was platonic, of course it was, and Patton was disappointed in that, but in the moment he couldn’t imagine anything better--his face was on fire and the lights shone before them and Virgil was inches away.

The lights are off now. Patton is sitting on an empty stage, and he’s going to miss the rest of math class if he’s not careful.

He’s left tears on the wood.

_Virgil_.

Patton is alone, and Patton is scared, and Virgil can probably feel it, can’t he, and he doesn’t know who Patton is _now_ but soon he’ll find out and he’ll pity Patton, or get worried, or leave him behind--

Who says he has to find out?

_They’re sad a lot._

Patton isn’t sad a lot. At least, Virgil doesn’t think he is. So why would Virgil think Patton’s his soulmate? If Virgil hasn’t figured it out by now, what would change?

_You found out today,_ says a nasty voice in the back of his mind. _Why can’t he?_

_Be quiet,_ Patton tells it.

Virgil won’t find out.

Virgil won’t find out and everything will be fine.

So: game plan. Go back to math class. Continue life as normal. And just don’t tell Virgil, best friend and squish, that they’re soulmates.

Perfect. Patton can absolutely do this.

\---

Patton absolutely can’t do this.

Okay, the thing is, he’s a _terrible_ liar. Like, really bad. Like, _tried-to-throw-a-surprise-party-and-blurted-out-the-secret-on-day-two_ bad. Every time he’s supposed to not mention something, it suddenly becomes the only thing he can think about.

So every time Patton sees Virgil, he immediately starts thinking about the fact that they’re soulmates and Patton can’t tell him and Patton is a terrible friend and he shouldn’t be thinking about them being soulmates and they’re _soulmates._

Which means every time Patton sees Virgil, he panics.

Virgil’s catching on. Patton usually manages to recover himself after a few seconds, but he also ends up leaving, cutting the conversation short to spare himself the chance of messing things up. Virgil can tell. Virgil’s worried. Virgil’s a good friend like that.

Virgil’s a good friend who’s his soulmate and _Patton can’t tell him_ \--

Well, Patton _could_. Then he’d have to deal with the pain of his best friend leaving him.

So yeah. Not really an option.

"Hey,” Virgil says during lunch. “You okay? You’ve been...kind of distant lately?”

“I’m fine,” Patton says. “Just tired.”

“Hey,” Virgil says after school. “Wanna hang out later?”

“No thanks,” Patton says. “I’ve got a lot of homework.”

“We could do it together?”

“I’m really busy.” Patton gives him a smile. “Next time.”

“Ugh, I hate earth systems,” Virgil complains as he falls into the chair next to Patton. Patton gives him a sympathetic smile, swallows, and looks way.

“Chips for cookies?” Virgil asks during lunch.

“Of course,” Patton says, handing Virgil a cookie and getting a bag of chips in return. He doesn’t even like cookies, but it’s a good excuse to share his cookies with Virgil. He bakes them every weekend. Virgil likes chocolate chip. Patton draws little hearts in icing sometimes.

“So,” Virgil says, biting into the cookie and groaning, “how was class?”

“Good,” Patton says, and he pushes the chips into his lunch box and doesn’t eat them.

“Did I...” Virgil’s hesitant, drumming his fingers on his backpack. “Did I do something? Are you mad at me?”

Patton stares at him in horror for a few seconds. “No!” he finally blurts out, but he can’t think of how to elaborate, and the tears are already welling up--

“I have to go,” he says, and he pushes his way into the crowd and vanishes.

Virgil’s worried. Virgil has a right to be. Virgil is so good and cares so much and of _course_ he’s upset that Patton’s suddenly distancing himself, of _course_ he’s trying to help--

And Patton wishes he could stop. He really, really wishes he could. But that means he has to be around Virgil _more_ , and explain what _happened_ , and Virgil will know that Patton’s his soulmate and he’ll know that Patton’s a mess--

Well, maybe he already knows.

It’s getting harder to hide.

Patton can’t focus. School drips around him and everything goes through one ear and out the other. Patton tries to concentrate, he really does, but his mind is all scrambled up like a twisted ball of yarn, and if Patton tugs on one string nothing happens but if he tugs on another the whole thing collapses to threads.

“Is everything okay?” Roman asks one afternoon, giving Patton a searching expression. “Virgil says you’re avoiding him, and he’s really worried about it--”

"I’m fine,” Patton says firmly, as if he can turn a lie to truth through sheer force of will.

And Roman gives him a _look_.

Roman knows something is wrong.

And now Patton is avoiding his other friends. Patton is signing up for study sessions he doesn’t need so he can get away from the cafeteria and stay after school when they’d usually hang out. Roman invites him to rehearsal. Patton pretends he has to look after his neighbor’s dog. Janus asks him if he wants to go out for ice cream. Patton manufactures a family gathering. Virgil asks him if he’s okay, and Patton lies.

Patton’s lying so much.

He hates himself for it, and he can’t stop.

It’s like...like candy. Like Patton’s starving and little lie-candies are right there and they fill him up quickly and buy him more time. And he knows they’re not healthy, knows he can’t do this forever, but he just needs a little more time, something to tide him out of this one interaction, he’ll fix it later--

He doesn’t know if he can fix this.

Things are very quickly becoming unfixable.

Patton is a mess, and the world is overwhelming, and he almost starts crying in Spanish class because he can’t remember the word for hat, and everyone’s staring at him and he wants to just curl up into a little ball and disappear--

He fakes sick the next day.

He’s lying to his _parents_ now. Great. That’s what good people do--lie to everyone they’ve got left in their corner.

He lies to his parents, and they believe them, because he’s never lied to them before.

He stays home. He watches TV and purposely puts on some of his favorite movies. The ones that always make him cry. And he finds himself dry-eyed, staring at Mufasa’s death scene and unable to feel _anything_ , and the tears just stick in his throat and refuse to budge.

He cries later. He cries when Virgil sends him a text of a cute puppy and tells him to feel better soon. He stares at his screen and cries.

Because Virgil is such a good friend.

Patton doesn’t deserve Virgil as his soulmate.

He doesn’t want to leave Virgil on read, so he quickly writes back “I will.”

No heart emoji. No “thank you.” No nothing, because what is Patton supposed to write, _I’m not sick and also I won’t feel better because I’m a terrible person and also your soulmate?_

Maybe Virgil can feel Patton’s sadness like a lump in his own stomach. It would be enough to make Patton stop wallowing, if Patton even knew how.

It’s a good day at home. Patton makes himself a croissant for lunch and sleeps through dinner. He ends up scrolling on his phone at three in the morning, trying to find a new TV show to watch. None of them catch his eye so he just watches The Office bloopers again. Not healthy, but who cares? The rest of his life is a mess, why not stay up late?

_Saw this and thought of u_

It’s Virgil. He sent a cinnamon roll. There’s a little smiley face under it. Virgil always texts with all lower-case, and he shouldn’t be up this late, and it must have been really nerve-wracking for him to send that cinnamon roll.

Because Patton’s a cinnamon roll.

Patton laughs a bit and then he feels like crying.

He leaves Virgil on _read_. He can’t bring himself to care.

He’s probably messed up everything anyway.

\---

Patton knows he can’t pull off being “sick” two days in a row, as much as he’d like to. So he sucks it up and drags himself out of bed. There are huge bags under his eyes and he feels like crap inside and out. Well, at least he has the excuse of having been “sick.”

He figured a day’s break would make him feel better about facing Virgil again.

He was really wrong.

The moment he saw Virgil, eyeshadow and purple jacket and fluffy little bangs, Patton’s heart felt like it had been crushed into a little pile of pieces. He’s been ignoring Virgil’s little zaps of feeling, but now they’re back with a vengeance. Virgil is jittery. He’s worried. And Patton can guess what about.

“Glad you’re back,” he says, and nothing else.

Patton pretends it doesn’t hurt.

He needs to fix this, he tells himself. Maybe he should tell Virgil that they’re soulmates. But what good would that do? Virgil’s upset with him, and for good reason. Patton just distanced himself from everyone out of panic, and now he has no idea how to rebuild those bridges.

He’ll have to explain himself somehow, and he has no idea how.

And why would Virgil even forgive him?

Virgil, who’s barely looked at him, whose knuckles are white on his seat. He flops into his chair and mutters something about earth systems, but it’s not to Patton, and he doesn’t even look Patton’s way.

Patton swallows down the ache.

He doesn’t have an excuse for missing lunch, so he sits at their usual table. He brings a book and pretends he needs to finish it. Nobody bothers him. Roman asks what he’s reading but trails off mid-sentence and leaves him be.

Patton tries to keep all his feelings down when he’s near them, to look okay and feel okay so Virgil feels okay and everything stays above water.

He follows Virgil out of the cafeteria, opens his mouth to call after him, and finds no words.

“What?” Virgil asks, turning around.

Patton just shakes his head.

Virgil looks...disappointed. He nods, though, and turns away.

Patton stands in the hallway and watches his best friend disappear. He wishes, for some stupid reason, that Virgil will turn around. Virgil doesn’t.

Virgil leaves him behind.

And that’s what Patton didn’t want all along, what he tried to prevent, what he _lied_ to prevent--and he’s here anyway, because this is what he knew would happen, and _fuck_ , why can’t he do _anything_ right--

Patton runs.

Patton runs into the bathroom, locks the stall door, and stays there for a very long time.

\---

Patton’s messed up.

And he hates it.

And he will do _anything_ to make it right--

Will he?

Can he do this?

He has to.

He doesn’t think he could bear it if he lost Virgil for good.

\---

Patton knows Virgil’s schedule by heart. So he slips into the hallway where Virgil passes by, sneaks out, and takes Virgil’s hand. Virgil starts and turns to look at him. Patton feels a storm of emotions batter him and he doesn’t bother trying to parse them.

“Come with me?” Patton asks softly, tugging at Virgil’s hand. “If that’s okay?”

Virgil glances up at the clock. Two minutes until math class. Patton is missing math again. Well. Some things are more important.

Of course, Virgil could easily say _no_ , that he has class and Patton has some nerve to just walk up and ask to talk like nothing happened--

“Okay,” Virgil says. It’s so quick and so simple that Patton almost cries right then and there. But he shakes himself and leads Virgil out of the hallway, back to that empty classroom. He sits on the ground next to a desk. Virgil hops on top of another desk and swings his legs out, watching Patton carefully.

“What’s up?” Virgil finally asks, probably trying to be casual but failing miserably. Patton gives him a small smile for his effort.

“We’re--” The words get stuck. Patton tries again. “I--”

“Hey, you okay?” Virgil slides off the desk and kneels by Patton. “Who am I kidding, of _course_ you’re not, you haven’t been for _weeks_ and I should have fucking checked on you, I’m sorry--”

“No.” Patton shakes his head vehemently, because when in doubt, he can focus on Virgil talking bad about himself. “It’s okay, Virgil. I promise. It was my fault.”

“If you say so.” Virgil drops all the way to the ground. “So. Wanna talk about it?”

Patton presses a hand to his mouth. He’s not supposed to cry yet, he still needs to explain--

But the way Virgil’s _looking_ at him, so soft, as if Patton hasn’t ghosted him for the past week--

“I--” Patton stammers out. “You--we-- _I’m sorry!”_

“Okay.” Virgil nods. “Good start, Pat. Keep going.”

“I’m sorry, I--” Patton waves his hands. “I just _left_ you, and I didn’t explain why, and that must have felt horrible, and I don’t want to stop being friends with you, I really don’t, and I’m so, _so_ sorry--”

“Okay.” Virgil reaches over and takes Patton’s hands in his own. “What happened? Could you tell me that?”

“Do you--” Patton chokes on his own words. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t know.” Virgil gives him a wry little smirk. “Depends on the reason, Pat.”

“O-okay,” Patton says. “I--we--”

“Take your time.” Virgil scoots closer until he’s almost close enough to hug, to lean on, and Patton can’t bring himself to close the gap. “Take your time, Pat, I’m listening.”

“We--” Patton screws his eyes shut. “We’re soulmates.”

Virgil’s hands spasm in his own.

“We’re soulmates,” Patton repeats, as if the words will sound less ugly the second time around.

“We’re what?” Virgil asks. His voice is breathless. Patton opens one eye and sees Virgil staring at him, eyes wide.

“Soulmates,” Patton says a third time. It still sounds wrong to him.

A beautiful, twisted kind of wrong--where it could be _right_ , it could be _so_ right, if Patton wasn’t so close to tears.

“Soulmates,” Virgil echoes.

It sounds better when he says it.

“Yeah, I figured it out--” Patton’s voice breaks. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, c’mon.” Virgil’s gentle reminder is almost an afterthought, though. He looks like Patton’s slapped him. “ _Soulmates_. You’re--you’re sure?”

“Pretty sure. It all matches up.”

Virgil is quiet for a long moment. “My soulmate’s upset.”

Patton nods. “ _I’m_ upset.”

“I can tell.” Virgil shifts until he’s next to Patton instead of in front of him. It helps. Patton feels less caged-in now. He leans back against the desk and the cool metal legs dig into his back. “So...why’d that freak you out so much?”

Patton takes a deep, shuddering breath.

Virgil’s fingers tap a familiar rhythm on his palm. Four-seven-eight. Four-seven-eight. Four-seven-eight.

Patton breathes again, and again, and again.

“Because we’re--” Patton swallows. “You know what your soulmate is like. Upset. Sad.”

“Not all the time.”

“Too _much_.” Patton’s hands curl around Virgil’s. “I--I figured--I try so hard to deal with it, and--”

“Deal with what?” Virgil asks. Something’s flickering across his face and Patton can’t tell what it is.

“Deal with...” Patton searches for words. “Crying?”

“Deal with crying.” Virgil looks upset. Or angry. Patton can’t tell and he could try and figure it out with his soulmate bond, but that feels like cheating, and he’s in no state to parse out Virgil’s emotions from his own. “Deal with _crying?_ Why?”

“‘Cause I’m not supposed to--” Patton swallows. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“ _Worry?_ ” Virgil repeats like he’s never heard the word in his life.

“You’ve got all your stuff going on,” Patton says, waving a hand at Virgil, “and I don’t wanna add to that, and I thought I could handle it but then _you’re_ my soulmate so you can tell and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to--to pity me or baby me--and I can’t--I can’t be a good friend _or_ a good soulmate if I’m this much of a _mess_. I can’t be--I can’t be _anything!”_ Patton stares at his lap. “I’m not _anything_. Not really. So much of me--it’s just not real, honey.”

“Oh.” Virgil sounds absolutely heartbroken. “Oh, Pat.”

Patton sniffs and raises a hand to press away the tears.

“Pat, c’mon, look at me.” Virgil tucks a hand under Patton’s chin and lifts it up. “There we go. Okay?”

Patton stares at Virgil, who’s smiling at him, one hand brushing over Patton’s cheek.

“I’m sorry you felt like that,” Virgil says. “That’s really shitty and you’ve had a rough couple of weeks. But--Pat, being upset once in a while doesn’t mean you’re not _you_.”

“ _Me_ is--someone who you want me to be!” Patton bursts out. “I’m whatever you guys need and now I _ruined_ it and I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh,” Virgil says again, and moves closer. “Pat, _no_.”

Patton looks at the ground again.

“You help me.” Virgil says it simply. “But--what, do you think you’re only helpful because you’re cheerful or whatever? You’re only helpful because you put aside your own stuff for mine? Do you think--” Virgil pauses. “Do you really think you’ve _ruined_ stuff by making one mistake?”

Patton shudders.

“Come on. C’mere.” Virgil extends his arms. “C’mon, you need a hug. ‘Cause you’re my fucking best friend, that’s why. And my soulmate too. I don’t fucking care if you get upset. Friends help each other, that’s the entire goddamn point.”

Patton looks up.

“C’mere,” Virgil says again. “I wanna make you feel better.”

“I don’t think I can,” Patton admits, and it feels like he’s dredging up something painful inside of him--a thick rock in his chest that’s finally loosening. “I don’t know how.”

“Fine, then, forget the ‘better’ part.” Virgil shrugs. “I wanna let you feel shitty. How about that?”

Patton leans forward, and Virgil meets him halfway.

He curls into Virgil’s chest. He’s never been hugged by Virgil, not like this, and he’s never known how strong Virgil can be. Virgil wraps an arm around his shoulders and runs his other hand down Patton’s side. Almost involuntarily, Patton chokes on a sob.

“I’m gonna cry,” he warns.

“Go ahead.” Virgil’s voice rumbles in Patton’s chest. “Do it as much as you want--I don’t mind.”

Patton’s breath hitches. He tries to hold it in, out of habit, but Virgil’s hand has come up to rest in his hair and Patton has always been an easy crier.

He buries his face in Virgil’s hoodie and sobs.

The bell rings. Neither of them move.

Patton cries until he runs out of tears. Patton cries until the entire front of Virgil’s jacket is wet. He cries until his eyes burn and he feels like he’s been strung out and emptied and carved away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Virgil’s shoulder.

“I forgive you,” Virgil says. “Always, Pat.”

“I don’t--” Patton raises his head and blinks away the last of the tears. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Drink some water?” Virgil laughs. “No clue, Pat, you’ve gotta figure that one out for yourself.”

Patton nods.

“But I’ve got you, okay?” Virgil leans in and wipes at Patton’s eyes. “You’re my friend because I like you--you’re cute and funny and sweet and you make terrible puns and you make the best cookies. You’re not made up of the things you do for others, and your identity isn’t what other people think of you.” Virgil pauses. His eyes are misty. “And if you want to think of it this way--you help me the most by being _you_. Just _you_. That’s all I’ve ever needed.”

Patton feels like he might cry again. He settles for a combination squeal-giggle.

“And we’re soulmates.” Virgil blinks a few times. “Holy fuck, we’re soulmates. Holy fuck.”

“Language,” Patton chides, because the swearing is easier to address than the soulmates.

“I mean, I hoped--” Virgil seems to catch himself. “I...did have some--ideas--about who it could be. But I didn’t really--it seemed too much to ask for.”

“You wanted it to be _me_ ,” Patton says.

“Yep.” Virgil looks sheepish. “You’re--y’know, you’re the best, Pat.”

“You _wanted_ it to be me.” Patton shakes his head. “You--you want? Me?”

“More than anything.” Virgil leans forward and presses their foreheads together. “Okay?”

“Definitely okay,” Patton manages. “So much more than okay.”

“Thank fucking god.” Virgil snorts. “All this time I’ve been pining away and you were right there--my _soulmate_ \--the whole time?”

“Apparently?” Patton grins. “Um, surprise? Your soul chose me?”

Virgil smiles back. “Well, my soul _does_ have standards.”

Patton’s grin melts into something even more soppy and lovesick. He doesn’t mind.

“I--um--” Virgil scratches the back of his neck. “I--you--y’know--”

“I love you,” Patton says. “If...that’s what you were trying to say?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says, looking relieved. “I...I’m better with leaving it an understood thing. But yeah.”

“Understood!” Patton giggles. “We’re...um, we’re late for math?”

Virgil shrugs. “You miss math for me all the time. I’ll miss math for you.”

“Romantic,” Patton teases.

“You know it.” Virgil pulls Patton closer. “I--I never minded, by the way. When you were sad. You were excited other times, and either way--it always felt like you. Sad or happy. It was a little reminder that you were there.”

“You feel like lightning,” Patton says.

“Huh.” Virgil smirks. “That’s cool.”

“It’s all zappy.” Patton wiggles his fingers. “Feels like you’re pushing me farther, like you’re catching fire.”

“Cool,” Virgil says again, and this time it sounds a bit more lovestruck, and Patton is really happy with the idea of hearing that tone forever.

“You’re--you’re different.” Virgil reaches a hand up and hovers it over his chest. “You’re like...rain? No, like, directly after it rains. When all the grass is wet and it smells like rain and the clouds are still there.”

“Really?” Patton asks.

“Yeah. Happy or sad, it was--it was all nice.” Virgil smiles at him. “You’re my soulmate, Pat. Isn’t that cool?”

“Yeah,” Patton agrees, and smiles back, and for once it isn’t forced at all. “It’s amazing.”


End file.
